


Finally Something New

by Banana_daiquiri



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut, journey's end and Tentoo never happened, post stolen-earth sexytimes, that's basically the plot and the rest is smuff, yes smutfluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banana_daiquiri/pseuds/Banana_daiquiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "The Stolen Earth," the Doctor and Rose have no choice but to acknowledge that their actions have spoken louder than words. Now it's time for the words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally Something New

It was her first clue that all was not as it used to be.

***

After the running, after the Earth being stolen and the sad farewell to friends and the unbearable heartbreak of parting from her Mum, something the Doctor himself had not so long ago practically forbid her from doing, there could be no question.

(Him standing behind, hands sullenly tucked into his pockets, a persecuted look in his eyes. He’d solemnly sworn to Jackie to keep Rose as safe as he ever could, which both man and mother could only hope was enough this time. He’d practically made Rose give blood to prove she could handle leaving. That she meant it.)

After pounding down the darkened street toward each other with Donna (brilliant Donna) looking on, the way he’d embraced her—so familiar, his smell so clean and safe, so _him_ \--and the way his hand had swept into her hair and cupped the back of her head (something new)—there could be no question that there was a discussion to be had.

After the first late night together back on the TARDIS, both of them exhausted and dirty and hungry and broken (he’d fed her well and steered her toward her room, practically dead on her feet, and let her sleep to her heart’s content), there was no question; but she was still surprised to see his note tacked to her bathroom mirror when she woke and went about getting ready for the day. (And just how she was supposed to get ready she wasn’t decided. What could the day entail when all she wanted was to bound out and leap into his arms, and conversely to hang back and eye him warily lest he shy away like a stray dog):

_Meet me in the galley._

Her heart began to thud heavily when she saw it. She looked into the mirror, tucked her freshly washed blonde hair behind her ears, bit her lip, swallowed hard to make sure what she was seeing and feeling was real. That she was here. That she had returned, not just gone crazy. That she was with the Doctor.

 _With_ the Doctor?

Could anyone ever really be _with_ the Doctor.

_Meet me in the galley._

The TARDIS, humming in the background, through the soles of her feet. Home. Yes, she was here.

***

She didn’t know what she was expecting. She wasn’t expecting anything in particular—that was really the answer. She walked in and he looked up from the other side of the island where he’d been staring meditatively into his tea. He had never bothered to sit. He might have been rooted there for hours.

Their eyes met and his lips parted as if he might speak, but he made no further sign of communication. That look said it all: he was frightened, stunned, and then—was it happiness? A hint of the gleam of repressed tears? Could he have missed her nearly as much as she’d missed him? Needed him, wanted him….

Whatever he saw in her face was apparently enough to coax him to movement. He skirted around the island and went to her swiftly as if any other motion was against the law of physics. 

The trembling in his hands (which were always so certain) as he took her face between them and tilted it back, his fingertips tracing her temples, brushing the tips of her ears, was the first real sign that this celebratory embrace was not what such celebratory embraces used to be. 

A bit hesitantly, as though he was waiting to be stopped, the Doctor tilted her face up and closed the distance to press his lips to hers. A hint of moisture on her lips after he’d gently pulled back was the only confirmation that she wasn’t hallucinating. 

“I missed you.”

The whisper itself could have hurt her ears, her senses were so heightened. Adrenaline pounded through Rose’s veins, made her palms sweat lightly, made her breath shake as their eyes met again, this time so close. Closer than they’d ever been, except after they’d been reunited after the Beast and the Pit. But even then there was only an empathetic sense of regret, not this charged feeling of inevitability, each sensing what the other wanted. The choice they’d made so clear between them. The choice he’d let her make. The choice, on his part, that he must have decided was not a mistake. Or not enough of a mistake to stay away.

“I….” She stopped, swallowed, eyes riveted on his. His brown gaze was frightened, searching, desperate. She willed the words to come before he could think that the storm of emotions overcoming her signaled regret. “I missed you. So much, Doctor.”

He made some sound of comfort or recognition and pressed his forehead to hers, the unsteady rhythm of his warm breath in her face. She realized that he was wiping her tears with the pads of his thumbs. His hands still framing her features, still shaking lightly. Her heart wasn’t the only one pounding; she could feel his now, both of them, the vibrations traveling along through her arms, seeming to fill the narrow gap of air between their chests. 

Slowly, softly, he began to kiss around her mouth: the left corner, then her upper lip, her right cheek. She was boneless, helpless to respond. His left thumb ran over her lower lip, pulling it softly, and she could taste her own tears. 

“I needed you.”

She was crying freely but quietly now, pulling in labored breaths, her eyes closed. The way the Doctor was speaking to her was an impossibility straight from her past, from the death in her chest that had chased her in the years since they’d parted. That aching void no breath had ever been going to reach again. It sounded like a prayer, those words just for her.

No vehement declaration shouted by the Oncoming Storm. No flippant remark, no “almost.” Just three words better than any others in this moment. An admission. A request for forgiveness.

They found themselves simultaneously wrapped in the other’s arms, hands caressing over clothing, noses brushing, and then his lips gently nipping at hers, posing their question.

There could be no question. 

She found her hands clutching his hair, felt his teeth click against hers unapologetically, lost all sense of anything but the intuition in the way they moved.

She hardly recognized when he shrugged out of his coat, or that the TARDIS had shifted his room to just off the kitchen. She’d never been in his room before, but could sense it—an all-encompassing sense of rightness, of truth, of _Doctor_ \--even before he momentarily startled her by lifting her and then falling back with her onto the bed, crawling over her, both of them smiling but too breathless to properly laugh. She scooted backward against his pillows as he finally freed himself of his shirt. His eyes traced over her stomach as she mirrored him and set about shedding the rest of her clothing.

Since she’d met him, there had never been a moment when Rose and the Doctor had been out of sync. It was no different here. He undid the button and fly of his trousers, causing her to swallow hard as disbelief caused an elevator-dropping feeling in her chest. As she followed along in a silent game of Simon Says, their eyes met. They never looked away as they finished undressing.

Only when she was finally bare underneath him did the Doctor’s eyes go astray, wandering almost awed over her skin as if he hadn’t ever seen flesh before, or an animal that couldn’t be categorized, or a sunset of pure mercury. Supernovas, disappearing worlds, diabolical plots, impossible planets—in this moment they could all go to hell.

Rose likewise mapped the Doctor, taking in his pale but lightly muscled chest, the smattering of light brown hair there, a brief scattering of freckles she wanted to follow with her tongue all the way down to his navel. She fought back a whimper at how aroused he was, and wondered if he’d been that way from the moment he’d first kissed her. She had.

His hand was still trembling as he reached out and brushed the fingers of one hand along her all the way from her neck to her lower abdomen, causing little flutters there, which set off a cascade of other shivers through her. Goosebumps rose on her arms. She writhed a bit, silently begging him to end the long-standing torture and _touch her._

He smiled softly and ran one finger down into her cleft, teasing the bundle of nerves there with a hint of friction. Her eyes closed of their own accord and she slid her hand down over his and pressed, listening to his breath catch. He took the hint and applied slightly more pressure, rubbing furious little circles. 

Rose traced her fingers up his thigh and took his length in hand. Their eyes met again as she began to stroke him slowly but firmly. As his respiration became ragged with need he trailed his finger down further and slid it into her hard and suddenly, abruptly changing the entire pace of their seduction. 

Rose moaned, her moisture flooding his hand as he fingered her briskly, sliding another finger in with the first. “Oh God,” she managed, bucking her hips almost involuntarily, clenching around him. She hissed. “Doctor….”

His mouth slid over hers warmly but frantically, his tongue winding sensuously around hers. Her fist grew slicker with his fluids as he made her shudder beneath him with a calculated curve of his fingers and swipe of his thumb. 

Rose’s whole body tensed with pleasure, but she wriggled and pushed his hand away with determination, puzzling him until she used all of her body strength to take him by surprise and roll him back onto his back. She swung one leg over him and watched him carefully as she lined them up.

He pursed his lips, meeting her gaze intently, and grasped her hips as she rocked and pressed, feeling him enter her inch by inch until she was almost filled. 

The Doctor bucked up under her, seating her the rest of the way onto him. She yelped with the sudden pleasure of having him finally fill her, and he breathed out heavily, his hands gliding up her until he could tease her nipples with light touches as they set a rhythm of short, hard thrusts. She leaned down to kiss him, still studying him as she tightened herself purposefully around him. He gasped into her mouth, his eyes pleading. “Rose…oh my--oh…oh God.”

She ended anything else he had to say by kissing him thoroughly as she slid back on him again and again, swallowing down his moans as he followed her pace, feeling the air rush harshly from his nose against her upper lip. The Doctor’s hands were everywhere: her breasts, her hips, her back, until he abruptly rolled them over again and hooked his arm under her right leg, changing the angle so he could go even deeper. Soon she was moaning with every thrust, her legs shaking, and he was whispering affirmation every time his skin met hers. She could feel by the way everything tightened and he grew even harder that he was close, but was waiting for her. She distanced herself from the moment enough to savor it, memorizing the way his eyes were vaguely hazed with pleasure, the desperate way he was grasping her flesh, the soft involuntary whimper he made when she tightened herself around him again, sending them both over the edge.

He thrust one more time and they tensed against each other as they both came. He pulsed inside her, panting against her neck and pressing occasional, tender kisses there against her perspiring skin. She shivered, smoothing her hands over his back where she had inadvertently scratched him.

The Doctor slowly separated himself from her and flopped down on the bed beside her. They lay for a moment catching their breath. 

Rose looked over at him finally and gave him her tongue-touched grin. “Breakfast?”

He smiled, his hair adorably tousled. “You know the way to my heart.” He paused, his expression growing serious. “I love you, Rose.”

She curled into his side and reached over him, his left hand instantly finding her right, their fingers intertwining. She nuzzled the side of his neck and drew his earlobe between her teeth, sucking it lightly. The Doctor shivered at this and let out a pleased little groan that caused another wave of arousal to stir through her. “I know,” she whispered. She propped herself up on her elbow and regarded him for a long moment. “But it was about time you said it.” 

“Quite right too,” he said. The Doctor pulled Rose Tyler into his arms against his bare chest, and he kissed her tenderly for a very long time. 

Finally, in a world with so very few changes, nothing was as it used to be.


End file.
